Lines
by cinderellathings
Summary: Santana's been hurt many times before. How can she ever learn to trust again?


**And this is what happens when English assignments become fanfics. Sorry about the length. The original assignment had a 750 word limit.**

**Oh! And I promise to be posting way more after school's out. 32 days... not that I'm counting. (:**

**Okay, last thing. Help me out my reading/reviewing I Wanna Help You Out by my best friend, llamastuff (:**

**xx**

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I hear her footsteps. I know what's coming. I lie back on my elbows and take another swig of the wine that's been keeping me from breaking. I look up at the clouds. Somehow, whenever I sit on the roof, I feel closer to them. I feel closer to the sky. It's exhilarating, the feeling of flying. But I'm not flying. I'm on a roof and my girlfriend is dropping her briefcase to open the window. I know what's coming.

"Santana, what are you doing out here?" she calls out. I scoff. What does she care?

"I'm sailing, Brittany. What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" Her expression turns into hurt, but she quickly shakes it off. She's always calm, even in the most unnerving of situations. I've always found it enchanting and forgiving, even if most find it strange.

"Sorry, I just…" she trails off, "I mean, you're out here and you're drinking and you usually do that when you're upset. And usually, you're upset with me."

"How observative of you," I say coldly. She comes closer, unfazed.

"Santana, what did I do?" She gazes into my eyes, trapping me in them for the billionth time since we met. For a second, I consider letting them take me away. I want nothing more than to let them convince me that nothing is wrong and to prevent me from saying the words that echo out.

"Why don't you ask Quinn?" I say harshly. I have to drop my gaze to her feet so that I don't feel compelled to retract the words and pretend that everything is fine. I look at her sandals. Even in her power suit, she always has on a pair. I let a small smile break out until I hear her voice.

"Quinn? My boss? What does she have to do with anything?" her voice is still calm. I choose not to get lost in her way this time, no matter how beautiful a way it is. I know she's lying to me.

"Don't think I don't know, Britt!" my voice raises. "All your little surprise business meetings and expensive suits? What, did your new girlfriend take you shopping? And—"

"Santana—"

"Do you have any idea how much I've given up to be with you? I took so much courage to be with you after everything, and you just walked over all my efforts—"

"San, please listen—"

"I've been through this, Brittany. I know how this ends. I get hurt and you're okay in the end because you never really cared. Well—"

"San, will you please—"

"I just don't understand why now. Why is it that after all this time—" I stop when I see her simply kneel to the ground. Suddenly, all the words are stuck in my throat no matter how much I try to force them.

She takes a deep breath and speaks. "Thank you. Now, may I please explain?" All I can do is nod.

She reaches into his jacket and produces a small black box. Suddenly, my mind reminds me that I'm capable of speech.

"Brittany, you can't just—"

"Please, Santana. Just let me finish." She looks up at me and into my eyes. I briefly wonder if she knows what she's doing to me with those crystal blue orbs.

"Santana, I want you to know that I love you. I'd never hurt you. All the work stuff is because I got a promotion." My eyes widen. "I didn't want to tell you until I did this." She opens the black box to reveal the world's most beautiful ring. My eyes almost fall out of my head this time.

"I also want you to know that I'm not like any of those other girls who hurt you before. I'd never hurt you. You're perfect. And I want to spend the rest of my life counting all the things about you that make you perfect. But you have to trust me. You have to know that trust is important. You can't go through life without trusting someone. No two people are the same. I want to be the one you trust. I want to spend our lives building that trust. With that said," she takes a breath," will you please do me the honor of marrying—"

Before she can finish, my lips are on hers. And she's right. I need to trust. And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with her learning how to.


End file.
